


The Paris Underworld

by akiraarai



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Abuse, Age Difference, Alcohol, Angst, Canon Compliant, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Drama, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gambling, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Post Case 4, Post-Canon, Romance, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Tags May Change, original case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akiraarai/pseuds/akiraarai
Summary: After years of living an honest life for years in Japan, Makoto Edamura begins to think a return to his old life is impossible, having severed all ties with Laurent. But one day, an event transpiring in his coffee shop will send him spiraling into an intense con in the heart of Paris.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 25
Kudos: 118





	1. Round Five

**Author's Note:**

> Slight trigger warning for sexual assault (nothing too major)

The ring of a bell sounded over quiet chatter as the glass door swung open, and someone new came inside. Makoto Edamura raised his arm and waved as the woman took her place at the end of the line. It was a busy morning in Makoto’s coffee shop, his loose apron fluttering about as he busied himself with his customers. He smiled pleasantly as he took the order from the man standing at the counter, using the conversational tone that had made him so famous among his frequent customers. Though he had started with next to nothing, Makoto’s charm had led him to own one of the most successful cafes in the city.

Makoto’s cafe had a warm and inviting atmosphere, with sunlight falling softly through the glass windows, and a large painting hung on the wall depicting a dense forest, the beautiful strokes of paint creating a world of color contained within the canvas. The dark wooden floors, the sounds of coffee being brewed, the friendly chatter of his customers… It was one of Makoto’s favorite places in the world.

“Something strong, please. Er, whatever you’d recommend.”

“Of course, sir.” Makoto nodded as he took the payment and sidestepped over to the counter, pouring water into the brewer, and began brewing the coffee. After adding the water, he added the coffee beans, just the right proportion, and flicked the switch on the machine as the drink began to filter. Makoto found himself staring unfocused at the condensation on the pot, momentarily forgetting where he was. The sound of the machine, the coffee beans…

Sometimes thoughts would drift back to him of how he had ended up here; even though he’d done his best to distance himself from his previous life. He sighed, resting his hands on the wooden counter, and stared out of the window, sunlight still seeping into the well-lit cafe. A bit of his mind always drifted back to Akemi Suzaku complimenting his coffee, the way she had looked warmly into his eyes… he shuddered at the thought, the return to reality coming in the form of a customer standing impatiently at the register.

In truth, part of Makoto knew that he had mixed feelings about leaving the rest of the gang behind. He truly believed this is what he wanted most, to live an honest life, free from the insane plans of the sleazy Frenchman Laurent, the relentless teasing of Cynthia, and the cold indifference of Abby. He had gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? He had lost count of how many times he had tried to free himself from Laurent’s grasp, only to be pulled back into the intense large-scale scams that only served to thrill. And the pay, of course. But Makoto didn’t  _ need _ money; he was doing perfectly fine as he was.

Still though… he’d be lying to himself if he said that he hadn’t thought about what it would be like to see Laurent again. Get wrapped back up in the old drama. The old excitement. Makoto generally didn’t allow himself to have these thoughts, but time and time again memories would flash through his mind, serving as a constant reminder of the days of conning, the days he tried so hard to forget, and also the days he missed.

_ Damn it, no!  _ He thought to himself as his grip tightened on the cup of coffee he was holding.  _ I don’t miss it. What’s done is done. If I never see Laurent again, that’s completely fine with me. _

“Thank you,” the man who had ordered the coffee said to Makoto and walked away as someone else took his place. The woman now standing at the counter smiled pleasantly at Makoto, and the genuineness of her expression took Makoto aback. She was very attractive, with long, lush brunette hair and soft brown eyes, barely noticeable freckles across her cheeks, and a casual blue sweater with dark jeans.

“Hm… I’d like a scone please, if that’s not too much trouble!” The woman smiled again, and for a moment Makoto forgot to reply. 

“Oh, yes, of course!” Makoto replied, regaining his composure. He took the payment, then turned back around, giving a slight shake of his head. He reached into the glass display case to the right of the counter and pulled out a raspberry scone, little bits of berry visible in the dough, like gemstones. Small crystals of salt adorned the top of the pastry. Makoto slid the scone into a small bag and slid it across the counter to the woman. “Here you go.”   


“Thank you!” the woman said and slid a generous tip into the jar next to the register.

“Thank you very much!” Makoto said, barely suppressing his pleasure as the woman turned away with a smile and walked over to a table in the back. Makoto slid the cash she had paid into the register and waved goodbye to a couple as they exited the shop, bundling up in preparation for the cold weather. Still, in a good mood from the encounter, Makoto hummed softly as he scooped up a small cloth and set to work on wiping down the counters.

The bell rang again. Makoto’s eyes slid up and fell on the door as a tall man walked in, a hat obscuring a sharp, defined face, dignified-looking glasses adorning striking, pale blue eyes. With a perfect jawline only slightly hidden by a small stubble of facial hair, he would have been very handsome if not for a sort of greasy look about him. Black hair fell in a curtain around his head down to around shoulder length, and his shoulders, while broad, were also very slumped.  _ Bad posture _ , Makoto thought as he opened his mouth in greeting.

“Good morning sir. Is there something I can ge-”

The man interrupted by raising his hand absentmindedly. “Don’t take coffee made by Koreans. Tastes funny.”  _ French accent. _

Makoto stopped. “I’m Japanese, for fuck’s sake!”... is what he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut in a small grimace as he nodded and partially returned his attention to the cloth and the wiping. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man sit down lazily in the back. He grumbled and felt his good mood turning sour.

The cloth effortlessly picked up the small bits of dust and crumbs on the pinewood counter, clear paths being made where the dirt was wiped away. Makoto’s irritated mood persisted as he continued cleaning.  _ Korean? Really? And why is he even here if he isn’t going to buy anything? _

Makoto looked up darkly at the tall man. He wanted to ask him to leave, but he didn’t have a real reason for it… he just hated watching him sitting alone, at the back of the cafe, finger on his chin, staring at the woman from before… staring at… 

Makoto slowly stood straight up, looking at the man. His eyes were looking, unmoving, at the brunette hair of the friendly woman. It wasn’t right. Makoto knew those eyes. He glanced around; they were both at the very back, nobody could see them. No one could see what was going on. Makoto took a deep breath.  _ Chill. You’re overthinking. _ Still, just to be safe… Makoto quietly stepped behind a plaster pillar, blocking his body from view. He glances down into his hands. A blue mug, with a drawing of Tokyo, etched into the surface.

He tightened his grip on the mug and took a shaky breath. Why was he nervous? Nothing was going on. He had only had a bad first impression with the greasy mystery man. There was no reason to be worried. And still, that nagging feeling, that something very bad was going on. Makoto took in a sharp inhale and looked back around the pillar to where the man was sitting.

His stomach dropped. The chair was empty. His panic-stricken eyes trained their way over to the other table. There he was, standing with one hand softly massaging her shoulder. A grin he wasn’t trying to hide. His face very, very close. Mouth moving in a whisper. The woman didn’t appear to be near as content. Makoto couldn’t see her face, but what he could see were shaking hands, legs pressed very tightly together, and a scone that wasn’t going to be finished.

This wasn’t happening. Surely this was a dream. Maybe even a prank. Makoto didn’t  _ want _ this to be happening. He didn’t want the woman to be slowly standing up, the man’s hand still firmly planted on her shoulder. He didn’t want to watch the man leading her away, a brief licking of the lips, his hand still planted firmly on her shoulder. They were going towards the men’s restroom.

Makoto’s heart was going to burst out of his chest. No way. He had to move, he had to do  _ something, _ but he couldn’t move. His feet stayed completely still. His body wouldn’t let him move. A small bead of sweat formed at his hairline as they neared the doorway. Then, the man spoke. It was barely audible; Makoto would have missed it if all of his senses weren’t turned up to overdrive.

“I’m looking forward to it. Brunettes are always my favorite.”

And that was it. Rage welled up inside Makoto like an ocean wave.  _ A serial rapist. Here! In MY coffee shop! How many times has he done this? What number victim is she? He called me Korean! _

“SIR! Excuse me, what the  _ hell _ are you doing?” Makoto said as he stormed out from behind the pillar. His voice was angry, angrier than he’d ever remembered. They were inside the bathroom by now, standing just in view of the entrance. The man looked up, unamused, not moving his hand.

“Take your hand off of her.  _ Right now. _ ” To hell with politeness. To hell with the trademark Edamaura charm. “You need to leave, sir. I’m calling the poli-”  _ Smack _ . A dull thud. Makoto didn’t finish his sentence.

Lying flat on the floor was the body of not a charming cafe owner, but a rapist, facedown in the bathroom. The brunette woman didn’t stay for a second longer, she was already gone. Makoto heard the door chime ring somewhere in the back of his mind as he worked out what had just happened and cautiously stepped toward the unconscious man.

“Hm. That should do it. I’ll be the first to admit that violence isn’t my specialty, but he looks to be out pretty good. Don’t you agree, Edamame?”

Makoto stopped dead.

“Avery Martel. 43 years old, lives in Paris.” The familiar voice stepped into view, pulling up a brown bowler hat from his eyes, revealing unmistakable blond hair. Makoto just gaped at him. The blond bastard, aka Laurent Thierry, just winked at him and extended a hand.

“Ready for round five?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for clicking on this work!  
> 1\. Each chapter will be around 1500-4000 words, some longer  
> 2\. I'm estimating around 30 chapters total  
> 3\. I'll try my best to update weekly  
> 4\. Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	2. So Goddamn Superior

Laurent yawned and leaned further back to a more comfortable position in the polyester driver’s seat of the shiny and new-looking car he had rented at the Paris airport. He maintained his reclining position, adjusting his hands on the black steering wheel, and turning his attention away from the windshield to glance at Makoto, who was sitting in the back seat determinedly looking out the window, away from Laurent’s smug expression.

It was raining - quite hard - and the rain droplets pouring over the glass windows next to the dark night sky made it difficult to make out anything beyond what was immediately visible; that being a road that they were driving on, and a barrier at the edge preventing any vehicles from toppling off the steep cliff that they were following along.

“You’re not being a very interesting passenger, you know,” Laurent said from the driver’s seat, turning his attention back to the road, instead stealing glances at Makoto through the rearview mirror. Laurent had unkempt blond hair, forming soft spikes as it fell softly onto his shoulders, a loose strand hanging across his forehead. He was nearly a foot taller than Makoto, and despite his slim figure, he was still larger than Makoto. The shorter of the two was still sitting at the back, his messy brunette hair and casual clothing completely soaked.

Laurent sighed and gave another attempt at conversation. “It wouldn’t have killed you to take my offer and stand under the umbrella with me. You must be freezing. I really don’t know why you refuse to be near me, Edamame.” Makoto finally took his attention off the window and looked at Laurent. He knew exactly why he couldn’t be near Laurent right now; it served as a reminder that he was sacrificing his moral values to be here. All of this was  _ supposed _ to be in the past! What had been the point of spending months trying to find a stable job just to end up back here, in Laurent’s shadow, carrying out his insane plans? He had decided he was done with that life. It didn’t matter that they were stealing from the rich, it was still stealing! If he had known he was just gonna get dragged out again by  _ Laurent _ he would have stayed home and not gone to the stupid cafe that day.

“Why is it that you go so far to have me around, Laurent?” Makoto said. It was a genuine question. “It was no mistake that that man was there at my cafe yesterday. You orchestrated his movements so that he’d go there, didn’t you?” Laurent’s eyes met Makoto’s in the rearview mirror as the windshield wipers swished away the heavy rain. “Why me? Yet again? It’s always me! Tell me the truth, why am I here? You could have anyone. For all I know there’s no reason you need me around at all!” Laurent held eye contact, then broke it, looking back at the road, smiling thoughtfully.

“If I gave you the honest answer to that, I don’t think I’d make it out of this car alive,” Laurent chuckled. Makoto didn’t know how to respond to that, so he looked back out the window, his figure slumping down and his face leaning on the glass and watching the raindrops cascade against the pane.

_ I don’t want to be here. I’d give anything to be back at home right now.  _ Makoto straightened up a bit and grumbled. So then why did he get into this car? Why did he board the plane with Laurent? And  _ why _ \- he looked at Laurent -  _ is Laurent so sure I’m going to stay here, and not just leave?  _

Laurent started tapping his fingers lazily on the dashboard and hummed a song unfamiliar to Makoto. Makoto felt the urge to cover his ears. He hated this. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he was here right now, playing right into what Laurent wanted. His oh-so-mysterious reason for having him here. He gritted his teeth at the thought and clenched his fist. So then why did that one part of him still insist on sitting his ass on this car seat, and willingly following along behind Laurent? He had known this was the direction he was taking himself the whole time when he followed Laurent out of that cafe, all the way to where they were now. Was it because he wanted to get back at that man? Because of Laurent? He suppressed a laugh. No, that would never be it.

_ Fine,  _ he conceded.  _ I’ll see what the bastard has to offer. I’ll leave if I don’t like it. Easy. _ He sighed exasperatedly as he felt the warmth of his cheek on the cold of the car window. These damn emotions making everything harder than they needed to be.

“We’re here, Edamame! You can wake up now,” Laurent teased. The voice registered somewhere in Makoto’s brain, and he slid his eyes open groggily.

“Wha-” his voice died in his throat. Laurent was right there. Like  _ right _ there. His face was inches away from Makoto’s; he could feel Laurent’s breath on his face. “Wha-  _ what the hell? _ ” Makoto thrust his hands onto Laurent’s chest and pushed him away, with a flustered expression and a red face to go with Laurent’s grin. Laurent laughed. “Welcome to the hotel. It’s very high class. We’re on the top floor, and the balcony has a pool and a direct view of the Eiffel Tower. I think you’ll come to enjoy it.”

Makoto gaped at Laurent, then closed his mouth angrily and stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He sidestepped past Laurent and stormed down the stone pathway towards the luxurious hotel. Laurent grinned and watched the back of Makoto’s head as he fumed.

“That’s the wrong way, my little soybean,” Laurent said, holding back a laugh. Makoto stopped, gave a comically over-exasperated groan, but turned his head to look over his shoulder. “We’re going in that way.” Laurent pointed at a staircase that led up to a secondary entrance above the main one. It was a totally inconspicuous door; you wouldn’t see it right away if you weren’t looking.

“That’s bullshit. I bet we could go in either one, you’re just saying that to make me look stupid.” Makoto said.

“If that’s the truth that will give you comfort.”

Makoto gave him the finger, but turned around and made his way to the staircase and started climbing, Laurent close behind him, resting his hand on the railing.

“I was just making sure there wasn’t danger over there. Like someone spying.”

“The only danger here is your incompetence.”

“I could kick you right now.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I  _ will _ if you don’t stop acting so goddamn superior.”

“If you say so,” Laurent smirked. Makoto turned around and glared at him. Laurent flashed an innocent smile, and Makoto forced himself to look away.

“Asshole.” He stepped forward and pushed the door open without knocking, and immediately stopped in his tracks.  _ Um. _

It wasn’t a hotel. Well, he supposed it was. I mean, it definitely resembled one. But… it definitely didn’t live up to the hype. The carpet was a faded blue color, with orange dots scattered around. They were spaced unevenly, it was infuriating to look at. Not to mention the carpet was dirty. And the walls were low. And the lighting was awful.

“Well, welcome to our hotel!” Laurent said with a grand gesture, his hand motioning to the unmanned reception desk. “...what, you don’t like it?” Laurent said with mock disappointment. “Koreans are  _ so  _ spoiled. I think I would’ve turned down that coffee too.” Makoto didn’t even respond, he just looked at Laurent, waiting for an explanation. The blond sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I told you earlier that we’re on the top floor. That elevator goes straight there.” He pointed at the elevator in front of them. The going up button was missing. “This room’s degrading a bit because it hasn’t gotten an upgrade in a while. They don’t get much traffic through here.”

“So we just have to take the elevator?” Makoto asked, bending over to peek into the hole where the button should have been. “Do I just…” Makoto held up his finger and moved it to push inside the hole.

“Whoa! No, no, no.” Laurent grabbed Makoto’s hand and pulled it back. “I’m beginning to worry you’ve lost your touch. Don’t you realize what will happen if you do that?”

“I’ll get electrocuted?” Makoto said, in the most I’m-so-done-with-your-shit voice he could muster.

“Here, use this.” Laurent handed Makoto a small stick that had clearly been in the rain. “I found it while you were, hm, conducting your private investigation.” Laurent winked at him. Makoto snatched the stick from Laurent’s grasp, making sure his hand got scratched with one end of the stick that was poking out. He shoved the stick into the socket, resolving not to give the bastard any more of his attention. 

The elevator doors clicked and slid open. Makoto stepped inside, taking care to stop over the crack in between the elevator and the lobby floor. He didn’t like elevators much. Or heights. He shuddered when he remembered how high they were probably about to be taken.

Laurent stepped in behind him and pressed the only button on the panel; labeled [M]. Makoto hadn’t the slightest clue what that stood for.

“Laurent - why is there a whole building here if there are only an elevator and a top floor?” Makoto said as the iron doors slid smoothly closed and the elevator began rising.

“Well, of course, there are other rooms here. Quite a lot actually. The top floor just has its own lift. And, er, lobby I suppose,” Laurent said. Makoto scoffed. He was beginning to doubt Laurent’s taste in hotels. What kind of structure design was that? Laurent’s tall figure smiled at Makoto knowingly from behind.

_ Ding! _ The elevator chimed, and once again the two doors moved smoothly apart.

“ _ Edamame _ !” A cheery voice rang from behind the exit and before Makoto could react, she was hugging him with one hand, holding a glass of wine in the other. “Abby, he’s here!”

“Agh! H-hello Cynthia!” Makoto replied. He tried to return the hug but ended up patting her on the back awkwardly.

“So nice to see you again, Edamame!” Cynthia said, finally giving Makoto some room to breathe. Makoto took a second to regain his composure. He had  _ not _ been ready for that kind of greeting.

“You too, Cynthia!” he grinned. Cynthia was tall, with shoulder-length red hair, a face tinged slightly red, and the tone of voice she had when she wasn’t fully sober.

“I have some dry clothes for Makoto,” Laurent said. “When he’s finished changing, why don’t you all join me on the balcony? Now that we’re all here, I think it’s time we went over the plan.”

Cynthia withdrew her embrace. “Okay. Bathroom’s down the hall, last door on the right.” She brushed a strand of crimson hair out of her eyes and gestured down a corridor leading off of the main room. To call the room  _ nice _ was an understatement. Nothing like the pitiful lobby downstairs. The entrance opened into a circular room, a red carpet with an intricate design making up the floor. A multi-section sofa sat at the edge of the room facing a huge television, featuring a glass coffee table in between. On the sides of the circle were doors opening to two bedrooms, and the hallway Cynthia had mentioned. An entire side of the circle was made up of a glass sliding door that opened up to the balcony. Makoto didn’t look for too long - the railing was low, and he didn’t have to see over the edge to tell how high up they were.

“This place is incredible,” Makoto said in awe as he pulled the warm clothes out of Laurent’s hands. He had seen his fair share of nice hotel rooms thanks to Laurent’s company, but nothing like  _ this _ .

“You’ll be here for the next couple of months, so I’m glad you like it,” Laurent said.

“You don’t know that,” Makoto grumbled.

“Yes, I do. Meet me outside when you’re finished.” Laurent turned and disappeared onto the balcony, sliding the glass door closed behind him.

“I’m sorry. He must be insufferable. Scratch that, he  _ is  _ insufferable,” Cynthia said exasperatedly.

“Finally, someone who understands,” Makoto said. “Guess I better change. See you in a few minutes.”

Cynthia nodded. “Aren’t you going to say hi, Abby?” she said. Makoto looked around. Abby was lounging on the couch, using her phone. He hadn’t even noticed her before now.

“Hey,” she said, briefly dividing her attention.

“Uh, hi,” Makoto said awkwardly. Abby didn’t look back up.

“Talkative as ever,” Cynthia sighed. “Anyway, see you outside!” She too turned on her heels and slid the glass door open, stepping out into the cold air.

Makoto walked down the hallway. A tall, antique wardrobe stood at the end of the hallway. Makoto turned the knob of the door Cynthia had mentioned and pushed it open.  _ Jeez. Do people even need bathrooms this nice?  _ With a piece of modern art on the wall, a high-tech looking toilet, and a sink with more than two handles, he was entirely sure that people  _ didn’t _ need bathrooms this nice. He slid off his soaked pants and shirt and put on the new clothes Laurent had supplied for him; that being blue jeans and a green sweater. He bundled up his old clothes and opened the wooden door, and went back into the main room.

The three of them were outside at the table. Laurent was leaning back as casually as ever. Cynthia had her fingers on her chin and appeared to be thinking. Abby leaned forward, holding her face in her palm. Makoto joined them outside, the beautiful view of the city and Eiffel Tower not lost on him.

“Hello, Edamame. We left that seat for you,” Laurent said, pointing to the last one. “It’s facing away, so you won’t have to see over the edge.” He winked. Had it been anyone else it would’ve been a normal gesture, but whenever it was Laurent Makoto couldn’t help but feel he was being mocked. He reluctantly pulled back the seat and sat down, looking around at everyone else.

“So,” Laurent said. “I guess that’s my queue to fill you all in on what's going on."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far!! Next chapter should be up December 9, and feedback is always appreciated :)


	3. Haze

The plan was insane. There was no better way to describe it. Of everything they had gone through so far, this was the most dangerous yet. Makoto didn’t have words to describe what he was feeling. Was it trepidation? Excitement? Fear? His role in this was a central one - far more important than anything Laurent had trusted him with thus far. It was also the most difficult.  _ How on Earth am I going to manage this?  _ Makoto thought as Cynthia opened her mouth to speak.

“Let me get this straight,” she said. Makoto could see her mouth moving, sounds that must have been her voice, but he couldn’t make out a single word. It was as if he was frozen in time, perched over the sparkling city of Paris with his old partners in crime, drinking and talking as if this were a casual get together and not the plotting of a life-threatening scheme.

Laurent twirled his wine glass in his hand. “Naturally I haven’t given you  _ all _ of the specifics, I just need to all to know the gist of what we’re getting into. As usual, it’s very dangerous and you can leave if you’d like.” Laurent looked at them all expectantly, waiting for any objections. Makoto didn’t know what to do. Every part of him wanted to be back in the warmth of his apartment, making a humble living off of coffee. Already he longed to be away from this place, this crazy hotel with this crazy con man that kept dragging him back into this for reasons unknown. But what would that communicate to everyone?

As much as he hated the idea of what was about to happen, he couldn’t ignore what already  _ had  _ gone down. What happened wasn’t okay, and he couldn’t just pretend it was. To leave now would be like excusing the actions of that man that morning, and that was something Makoto just couldn’t do. Leaving this place now would only leave him with the guilt that he  _ could _ have done something, created some form of retribution for everyone that had suffered from his hands in the past. Had Laurent known all along that this was how he would react? That this was the reason he wasn’t going to leave? Laurent was a cunning bastard. Makoto had known this from the start, but to think he could predict Makoto’s exact nature when it came to a decision like this sent a chill down his spine.

He stared at Laurent’s self-satisfied gaze as not one of them objected to the plan, or announced their departure. He knew exactly what he was doing; the self-assured bastard knew from the start none of them would leave. Nonetheless, Makoto looked upwards with a determined gaze. His personal grievances with Laurent Thierry had no relevance here. What mattered most was making sure Martel rotted in hell.

“I’m in,” Makoto said. Cynthia looked over from her chair in mild surprise, but Laurent just smiled wider.

“Glad to hear it. I judge from your silence that you’re okay with this as well, Abby and Cynthia?” They both responded with a nod, and Laurent sat back down. He poured a full glass of wine and slid it across the table to Makoto, who picked it up hesitantly. “A toast to a successful con here in Paris, France!” Laurent said in a natural French accent and took a long sip from his glass.

Makoto looked with trepidation at the dark red liquid. It had… been a while since he’d drunk. He wasn’t sure how his body would react. And yet all it took was one look up at the rest of them drinking as naturally as ever, and he tipped the glass backward in a panic, not wanting to be the only one that didn’t make a toast. The wine slid quickly down his throat, and Makoto choked.  _ Damn, that’s strong _ , he thought, quickly setting the wineglass back down on the table.

Laurent just looked on in amusement. “Now then, it’s gotten late and tomorrow is a very important day. Abby and Cynthia, you two are sharing the bedroom on the left side of the hall. Makoto, you and I have the right side.” He smiled, and it was a genuine one, not the teasing kind Makoto had come to know. Somehow, knowing Laurent was at least a bit happy to be rooming with Makoto made him feel just a little better. He just hoped there was more than one bed. “Before we head to bed though,” Laurent said, addressing Makoto, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Got it,” Cynthia said grinning. “You boys would like some alone time.” There was some suggestiveness in her tone, but she nevertheless stood up and entered back into the warm hotel room, Abby close behind her. The door slid closed with a satisfying click and Laurent returned to his relaxed position, reclining backward in his chair.

“So, Edamame,” he said. “How’s the honest life been treating you?”

Makoto thought about it. The small apartment, the struggle of being self-employed, living day to day off of canned food. To him, it was perfectly fine. To live modestly was perfectly fine with him because he was still living life. He didn’t need to have a lot of money to be happy. He doubted Laurent shared his point of view.

“Shut up,” he said tiredly. “You’re just trying to get me to say I’m glad to be back.”  
“Are you?” Laurent said. It was direct, blunt even, but Makoto didn’t have an easy answer.

“Well,” he said, picking up the wine glass again and taking a sip. “I’ve told you this before. Before I met you, I was… well, I was alive, but not really living, you know? Stealing, taking advantage of people… it doesn’t grant the same euphoria for me as it does for you. I guess unlike you it’s true that back then I was taking the easy targets, the elderly and the ignorant, but that’s small comfort.” Makoto’s mind was an array of different thoughts and emotions, he was finding it difficult to turn it into a cohesive reply.

“Point is, you kind of pulled me out of that hole. I felt stuck in life, but working with you I felt I had a little more freedom. I was glad to be living life in an exciting way. The good kind of exciting, not the kind where you’re worried you’re going to get caught or something.” Why was he telling Laurent all of this? Well, he knew that. The wine was going straight to his head, he could already feel it. He took another sip. Too late now.

“I still did feel fear, you know. Lying to that Cassano guy? Jumping out of Marina Bay Sands? The thought of it’s still terrifying. But I’d rather go down thanks to a faulty parachute than from a lifetime in prison.”

Laurent listened intently and didn’t miss the opportunity to pour Makoto another glass.

“The problem is, you pulled me out of  _ that _ hole and dropped me headfirst into a different one. The whole time I’ve been here so far my mind has gone back and forth. Am I glad to be here or not? Stealing is wrong, no matter who it’s from. I can’t really talk considering where I was before I met you, but I still stand by that. It’s difficult for me knowing that we’re taking  _ everything _ from these people… can’t help but feel bad, just a little, even if they are scum. That being said there’s a reason I haven’t already left, which I’m sure you already know.”

“Is it my flattering presence?”

“Well no, but that’s also true.”

“Wait,  _ really _ ?” There was a tone of genuine surprise in Laurent’s voice, and Makoto looked at him blankly.

“Well, yeah,” Makoto said. “My pride generally forbids me from telling you outright, but I guess I do like being around you. You’re an interesting person, to say the least.”

Laurent’s expression was one of the most confused Makoto had ever seen.  _ Ha, bet that got him. _

“Guess what I’m trying to say is that yes, I am glad to be back. But I’m not. I love you and I hate you and I admire you and I despise you all at the same time. If anything,” Makoto grinned before letting out a burp that was probably loud enough to wake up Abby and Cynthia. He covered his mouth, his face a bright red, and not just from being drunk.

Laurent chuckled. “Did you have something else to say?”

With some effort, Makoto thought about it, then shook his head. “Lost my train of thought. Probably a good thing I’m going to forget all of this tomorrow, I’d hate myself for saying all of that.” The alcohol was starting to get to him. Makoto could feel a fuzzy feeling in his brain, and he was already finding it difficult to remember what he had said.

“I don’t know about that. You’re taking the alcohol better than I thought you would. You seem mentally present anyway,” Laurent said. Makoto groaned.  _ That _ he disagreed with.

“Can we go to bed?” he asked Laurent.

“Yes, I suppose it’s gotten late,” Laurent said, checking his watch. “I’ll wake you up tomorrow. I’m assuming you can stand?”

“Of course I can,” Makoto grunted, lifting his body out of the chair. “Why wouldn’t I-”  _ Thump _ .

Laurent laughed. “I guess not,” he said, as Makoto toppled onto the ground, balancing on all fours. “Here, can I help you up?”

“Y-yeah,” Makoto said, even him laughing. This whole situation was just so funny to him. They were at the top of an apartment tower in Paris! They were about to scam another old rich dude and ruin their life! He might die, maybe Laurent too! He’s very drunk, and now he’s on the ground! He broke down laughing, and then his arms gave out and he was lying face down.

“Yeah, we need to get you to bed,” came Laurent’s distant voice. He had felt so sober a minute ago, and now he was barely aware of Laurent’s hand scooping him up under his stomach, his arms holding him up into a standing position, and all of his weight leaning into Laurent’s chest. His mind wasn’t totally present, but Laurent’s warmth felt nice. He leaned further into his body.

“Whoa, hey now,” Laurent said, pushing him back up, and supporting him by his back. “We’re going this way.”

_ This way. The hotel room. Right. _ It was a process. He could walk, but he was hopeless without Laurent’s support, and the 9-inch height difference made everything so much worse. They were slow, but gradually they made it into the large circular room. Laurent reached around awkwardly to close the glass sliding door, while still keeping his arm wrapped tightly around Makoto’s shoulders.

“Geez. Can’t believe I said you were taking the alcohol well, Laurent said. “I’ll make a mental note to limit you next time.” Makoto was barely even aware of what Laurent was saying. It sounded like Laurent’s voice was coming from some faraway place, and he was left alone with his jumbled thoughts. His wandering eyes found themselves in Laurent’s shoes. He was at least somewhat aware of how wasted he was, so he used Laurent’s feet to ground himself and kept focused on them. They stepped deliberately across the carpet, making sure not to go too fast for Makoto’s sake.

The twist of a knob. The push of a door. The flicking of a lightswitch. Makoto’s eyes looked up to see their bedroom. He was too drunk to fully appreciate it, but damn it was a nice room. From what he could tell. A single king-sized bed was set against the wall, with a tapestry hanging behind it, with a dresser and full-length mirror propped up on the other side. There was a second doorway leading to the bathroom Makoto had been in earlier. The wall and carpet design were simply beautiful, and there was an enormous window with a stunning view of the city. Makoto almost sighed with amazement.

“I’ll, er, wait until you’re capable of doing it yourself to get you into sleepwear,” Laurent said. Makoto smiled - his voice sounded genuinely meek, which was a refreshing change. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s only one bed. Are you okay with being in it together?”

Makoto didn’t drop his smile. Somewhere in the back of his mind, every alarm bell was going off. But right here, right now? Sure, why not? Laurent wasn’t being weird, why should there be any problem with this?

“I’ll… take that as a yes then,” Laurent said, and he lifted Makoto up, one hand underneath his thigh, the other under his neck. Makoto was very light. With his shorter and slimmer figure, Laurent had no problem scooping him up and getting him into bed. He pulled the covers up and over Makoto’s body and made sure he was fit into them comfortably.

“I’m going to go changed,” Laurent said, smiling. “I don’t know if you’ll still be awake when I’m done, so goodnight, Makoto. I enjoyed tonight.” The ray of light coming from the bathroom disappeared as Laurent slid the door closed. Makoto snuggled deeper into the sheets. Oh, he was going to hate himself so much in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Next chapter up December 16


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